Born of Shadows
by Atemisk Scythe
Summary: A refugee from a world consumed by Heartless drifts from world to world, looking for a place to call home. He's not a friend, or a hero. Rage is all that he is, and darkness is all that he has.


_Author's Note: This is just an experimental story right now...if this gets good results, then I'll continue it._

**Chapter One**

A rainy night in a city that is rarely silent. Standing on a rooftop, a single figure cut out of the shadows by the moonlight, his silhouette familiar to those resting in their homes below, but not always a friendly silhouette. Looking down at the city, a single sigh breaks the unnatural calm, his mind elsewhere.

This is not his home. It never was. His home is in another world, in another time...possibly another reality. He left friends and family behind, though he doubts they still live. Darkness has been consuming the hearts of anyone it reaches, devouring worlds and casting those who are unable to escape into an endless twilight, where the only release is a merciful end to their tainted existence.

The sound of a woman screaming pulls him from his reminiscing mind, forcing him back to reality. Bright yellow eyes, devoid of iris, stare at the scene below. A 'lady of the night' as this world calls them - prostitute is no longer 'politically correct'. This 'lady of the night' seems to have run into issues with the local gang, and he knows what they plan to do. How this world puts up with people like this, he will never know.

Leaning forward, he falls from the rooftop perch, his head-first free fall taking him down almost ten stories, his fall stopping suddenly as he halts in midair, inches from the ground. Flipping quickly, his feet touch the alley street, his descent and arrival hidden by the darkness permeating the alleyway like a silencer, perhaps once working to the advantage of those who prey on the weak and defenceless. This night...this night, it works to HIS advantage.

He wastes no time. There is no declaration of his presence, no attempt at heroics; he is no hero, and the residents of this world have tried and failed to capture him for what they see as 'murder' and 'vigilantism'. He slowly opens his eyes, and the gang knows he's there, the glow of his yellow eyes lighting up the darkness around him, giving his targets an idea of what they face; a man half consumed by darkness, his heart long since destroyed by the dark that corrupts his being to the very core.

There is no escape from him. They draw their firearms, perhaps hoping their bullets will stop him. They won't. He moves with purpose, no action wasted as he leaps over the intended victim, landing feet first on the closest 'thug', his impact causing an audible cracking, the sign of breaking ribs and vertebrae. As the first falls, he is already moving, the darkness spreading down his arm, turning fingertips to steel-rending claws. The claws hit their mark, sending a shower of crimson into the cool night air; a throat slashed open. Grabbing the dying thug, he lifts him in a still-human arm, slamming the lifeless body into the remaining two thugs, knocking them to the ground.

They climb slowly to their feet, and open fire. Were he human, he would be dead. Narrowing his glowing eyes, he holds out a hand, lightning crackling in the night air, arcing from his fingertips. The thugs have no time to flee, his hand acting as a tesla coil, punishing their bodies with lightning, burning them beyond recognition.

Lowering his arm, he looks to the woman who now cowers in the darkness. He knows the look on her face well; like the other humans in this world, she fears him. He walks over to her, holding out a darkness-covered hand. She shudders for a moment, then slowly wraps her hand around his, climbing to her feet.

Looking down, she sighs. "Thank you. If you hadn't shown up, I don't know what would have happened to me." He looks over at her, raising a brow. He opens his mouth to speak, his voice as corrupt as his body, sounding almost feral. "I know what would have happened. They would have raped you, then killed you and left your corpse in this alleyway for the rats to feast on. And nobody would have cared."

She looks at him, her face a mirror reflecting the horror she feels, knowing his words are true. "Then I owe you my life. Is there any way I can repay you?" He blinks, caught by surprise. Nobody had ever asked him this before. They always fled after he told them what would have become of them. She moves closer, a smile on her violet lips. "Hasn't anyone offered to repay you for helping them?"

He shakes his head, not sure what to do. "No. They reap the benefits of my help, but once they are no longer in danger, they run." She smirks, holding out a hand. "Well, I'm Kira. What's your name?" Looking at her face for the first time, he clasps her hand in his uncorrupt hand, shaking it gently. "I'm known as Cai. Tell me, Kira...do you live on the streets?" Kira nods, sighing. "Since I was thirteen. I've been...selling myself since I was fourteen. I'm nineteen now."

Saying nothing, Cai grabs her around the waist, his body floating up into the air. Kira gasps, gripping his shoulders tight as they fly into the sky,


End file.
